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Chapter 33: Home Again

Wayne Castle, Kent England September 1844

—Bruce Wayne,

The newly returned couple exited the carriage, met by a line of servants, dressed, pressed, and ready to impress.

"Welcome home Your Grace," Alfred greeted them with a dignified bow, his troop of foot soldiers following suit.

"Thank you, Alfred," Bruce replied as he helped his wife down from the carriage.

The Butler's smile grew as the Duke offered the young Duchess his arm and guided her towards his former guardian.

"My Lady," Alfred said, bowing respectfully to the new lady of the house. "It is my great pleasure to welcome you to Wayne Castle."

Selina beamed. "Thank you, Pennyworth. I am at your mercy."

Alfred's eyes danced at her witty remark, but he was careful to keep his amusement hidden from the other servants, but Selina had caught it and smirked at the older man's concealed sense of humor.

She let her gaze wander over the imposing façade of the medieval castle. She was still unable to believe this was now her home and everything that had happened wasn't a dream.

Her thoughts were interrupted by her husband's matter-of-fact voice.

"I think we can manage without the spectators."

"Certainly, Master Bruce." Alfred clapped his hands. "You are dismissed."

The servants bowed and curtsied before breaking off to return to work or help unload the luggage.

Meanwhile, Bruce offered Selina his arm again, leading her into the grand house, while Alfred discreetly slipped past them and disappeared within the vast dwelling on some covert mission of unknown importance.

Upon entering the grand foyer, a valet and lady's maid magically appeared to take their coats, hats, and other traveling paraphernalia, and Selina took in the room with fresh eyes.

She had been here only once before the wedding, to oversee organizing the mountain of wedding gifts they had received. There had even been a silver cup from Queen Victoria!

She had seen the foyer for a second time during the wedding reception but had been far too busy to really take it all in.

Now she could indulge in taking her time, viewing it in full, and dissecting every fine detail.

The room had the dimensions and feel of a medieval great hall. With a ceiling that rose higher and higher until one could become lightheaded simply from looking up at it.

There were no less than six enormous steel double-tiered hanging candelabras that looked as if they too were from the Dark Ages. But she was surprised to see that instead of candles each was fitted with glass bulbs, a form of electric light that Bruce had made based on the design of someone named Warren de la Rue. So far though this was the only place his experiment was in use.

At the celling's peak, it climbed into arches supported by highly decorated wooden beams. Surrounding the rest of the cavernous vault were glossy oak beams creating a crisscrossed pattern of squares flush to the whitewashed ceiling.

Within each square was painted the personal sigil of a former Duchess of Gotham and or subsequent ladies of the house.

Selina smiled as she spied the freshly painted square that bore her emblem. Bruce had designed it for her, a maiden sitting on a crescent moon.

Hers was positioned between that of Bruce's mother, the Kane family coat of arms, and his grandmother, a German brown bear on a field of gold.

Moving down the walls were of smooth brown and beige stone. Further below the stone was covered by exquisite Jacobean oak paneling traveling from the second story entrance to the black and white checkered marble floor where she stood.

At the center of the hall was the longest staircase Selina had ever seen.

Carved of reddish-brown mahogany that was polished to the point where it glowed, its banister curved slightly out, allowing for a broader base that led to a slightly narrower top before coming to rest at a landing that formed a catwalk that was at least 10 feet in length.

From the landing's edges sprang three more, much shorter, stairways, one to the left, one to the right, and a third dead center.

Each fed into a stone archway that led down differing corridors in the vast labyrinth of a house.

The left and right-side halls ran along the edges of the great hall and had a network of stone archways overlooking the entrance below from behind the safety of oak rails that corresponded to the paneling adorning the walls directly underneath.

Between the arches, covering most of the blank wall space were large, faded, medieval tapestries depicting different scenes from the Bible, folklore, and domestic/country tableaus.

The stairs were laid with a rich maroon carpet that stretched from the three stairways, over the landing, down the main stair, onto the floor, and all the way to the front door.

Several imposing wooden doorways lined the main floor where she stood, leading off into unknown halls and receiving areas. She had counted five but was certain there were more hidden entrances she didn't know about where servants could discreetly disappear into secret passages and rooms.

Selina spun slowly, taking in the ground floor's décor.

It had all the traditional items one might expect, family portraits, antique weapons and heirloom treasures, various tables and benches, vases of flowers, etc.

When she turned back to the main door, which was flanked by two floors to ceiling cathedral windows, she spied the Wayne family crest engraved above the frame. A knight in black armor with an owl resting on one arm and a sword drawn in the other.

Beneath were written the family words, Prudentia et Virtus, quod Honoris. "Prudence and Virtue is Honor."

Bruce watched his wife studying her new home as he handed his coat off to a valet.

She was too engrossed to notice Alfred returning to the hall with a certain black cat held securely in his arms.

Bruce smiled as the faithful butler pressed a finger to his lips, warning his surrogate son not to ruin the surprise, before gently placing the feline on the floor.

Without hesitation the cat ran to her mistress and billowed into her expansive skirt, trying to find a leg to rub up against.

"Isis!" Selina cried as she picked up the animal and snuggled her face against its soft fur. "My beautiful darling, did you miss me?"

Isis meowed, demanding that her owner never abandon her in this strange place again.

Selina stroked Isis's chin, her green eyes narrowing, as she spied a collar and pendant on the cat's neck. She turned over the pendant to read the engraving, Isis, Wayne Castle.

"I'm afraid she ran off when I first brought her home, My Lady," Alfred said, stepping in to show her the pet license more clearly. "I bought her this so if she runs again some kind soul might know where to return her."

Selina felt a rush of sentiment at the kind gesture.

The Butler had somehow correctly summarized that Isis was more precious to her than just a simple pet. For so long the two had only had each other. She had been her companion…her friend.

Holding the animal closer Selina gave the man a genuine smile of gratitude that touched his heart more than she would realize.

"Thank you, Pennyworth, I will never forget your kindness."

Alfred bowed his head respectfully.

"I am at your service My Lady. But might I ask you for a favor in return?"

Her face lit up, anxious to repay this act of sincere kindness.

"Of course, anything I can do for you I promise I will."

The corners of his eyes crinkled.

"Would you please call me Alfred?"

The warm feeling glowed brighter.

"I would be honored Alfred, but only if you will call me Selina."

Alfred's smile dropped, instantly replaced by stunned horror.

"I-I wouldn't dream of it, Your Grace. You are the Duchess of Gotham, the lady of the house, I would never presume to be so discourteous to you!"

"Please Alfred," she grabbed his arm with her free hand. "I still can't get used to that title; I miss hearing my name."

The dignified man hesitated, but ultimately bowed his head in defeat.

"Very well Miss Selina, if that is your wish."

She released his arm.

"Thank you, Alfred."

"But never forget that you are The Duchess of Gotham and that the respect of that title is due to you."

She tilted her head like an amused cat, crossing her heart. "I promise."

He nodded briskly, becoming all business.

"Very good. Now, Sarah will show you to your room My La—Miss Selina."

The maid led the Duchess up the stairs and Bruce came to stand beside his Butler.

"It was very kind of you to retrieve her cat while we were gone."

Alfred waved the compliment away.

"Tosh, it was my pleasure. Now Master Bruce," he said, turning to the younger man, "the post is on your desk in the study. I have already forwarded all urgent matters to Mister Fox, so it is merely the personal correspondences that require your attention."

Bruce tugged slightly on his waistcoat and cuffs.

"Thank you, Alfred, I'll deal with it now."

"Very good Sir, I shall bring you some tea."

Once in his office, Bruce glowered at the large stack of letters waiting for him. He wished people would just leave him alone. You shouldn't write to people unless you know they want to hear from you.

Resigning himself to his fate Bruce sat down and began diligently sorting.

Invitations in one pile, requests from charities in another, letters of introduction as far away as he could manage, and congratulations on his marriage in the one closest at hand.

He quickly scanned each and wrote prompt, and usually rather short, replies and rejections.

Taking a sip of tea, he gave a contented sighed seeing that there were only a handful of letters left.

Pulling the last stack in front of him he glanced at the handwriting and his weary expression melted away, a fond smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

He quickly counted five letters, each written in elegant swirling calligraphy that he'd recognize in an instant.

Only five letters, he mused, Diana must have had a busy summer.

Leaning back in his chair he made himself more comfortable as he began to read through the excerpts of the young girl's adventures, chuckling at her various observations and escapades.

Before he realized how much time had passed, the last letter was done.

Neatly folding it back, he opened the desk drawer and added them to the stack.

Closing the drawer, he began thinking of what other tasks he needed to tackle when he noticed one more letter that had fallen, unopened, on the floor.

Picking it up Bruce leaned his elbows on the desk and began to read.

The further he read however the darker his expression became.

Dear Duke,

I am writing you to call upon the favor of gratitude you promised me some four years ago. I promise that I would not do such a thing if it weren't a matter of life and death. I am in need of safe passage to Britain for myself and my niece, a young girl of seven years. We hope to find sanctuary in your country. Only death awaits if we return to our native home and so it is my hope to build us a new life, safe on some foreign shore. There is no money that I can offer you, as what little I had managed to take when we fled is gone. If it were just my life at risk, I would have faced it, choosing to die on my native soil rather than to cower in the fields of another. But I no longer have the luxury of such sentiments. For you see it is not for myself that I request your help, but rather it is for the life of the child. At the time of my writing this we have made it to Fez, in Morocco, however, I do not know how long our accommodations will last. Please hurry my friend. I know that I can trust you in this as a man of your word.

Your Faithful Friend,

J'onn J'onzz

Bruce stood to his feet; the letter gripped tightly in his fist as he threw open the door.

"Alfred!" he called, searching the house for the butler. "Alfred!"

The man appeared; his expression worried.

"Yes, Master Bruce?"

The Duke sighed in relief at seeing his father figure.

"Where is Selina?"

"I believe she upstairs resting…should I send a maid to get her?"

Bruce contemplated it a moment, deciding that it wouldn't matter if the news came later rather than sooner.

"No, let her sleep."

Alfred nodded, watching the young man closely, trying to decipher what was going on.

"Here," Bruce said, handing the letter to him, "draft a response and send it."

Alfred scanned the letter, his stomach dropping. "If that is what you wish Sir."

Bruce nodded and began to walk down the hall before pausing and turning back.

"I'm going to Riverfoot to check in on the Kents, I should be back before supper."

A small smile came to the butler's face.

"Please tell the Princess that when she is free to resume her visits to come through the kitchen door, so we can continue our baking lessons."

Bruce's eyebrows shot to his hairline.

"Baking?"

Alfred's smile only grew, "She wants to surprise her Aunt."

Riverfoot Hall, Kent England September 1844

—Diana Princeton,

Diana banged her hands down on the piano keys in utter frustration.

She brushed a stray curl out of her face as she squinted at the sheet music, studying it, trying to figure out where she'd gone wrong.

The beginning usually flowed well, but she always lost it somewhere in the middle, her long fingers tripping over themselves and becoming clumsy sausages pounding the keys. The small dots on the page all running together in a fuzzy river of black.

Groaning in frustration she put her elbows on the keys and rested her head in her hands, rubbing the temples with her forefingers.

It wasn't that she disliked practicing, but it had become increasingly difficult to remain focused since returning home last week.

They had been back for only four days and already she felt like her body and spirit were withering away.

After spending every day for the past few months gloriously free, running about in nature from sunup till sundown, it was absolute torture to be confined inside the house looking out the window and feeling all her hard work and training waste away.

It had poured the rain for three days and now the sun shone bright and inviting, drying up the land and beckoning her out. But she couldn't because she had to practice. It was enough to make one cry.

She let out another groan, knowing she would have to start playing again before someone noticed and stuck their head in to ask why the music stopped.

If it were Oliver or Lois, she'd be safe, they'd easily cover for her, Dinah on the other hand might offer her help, but Clark and Aunt Martha would make her resume practicing, no arguments.

Clark had already set Big Barda on her to make sure she didn't try to sneak outside again. Though the maid didn't seem too pleased about being pulled away from her other work to play music teacher.

She snuck a quick peek at the giantess who stood ramrod straight against the far wall, arms crossed, glowering at the piano like she wanted to smash it to bits.

Diana pulled her hands down over her face and shook her head, trying to clear the cobwebs.

*Sigh

"Right than from the top."

She gave it another go, but this time managed to mess up the part she had played perfectly before, making her frustration soar to new heights.

Not wanting to start over again she tried to muscle through, but it only made it worse as she realized she was playing in the wrong octave and was rapidly running out of keys.

Just as she was about to give up and go back to the beginning the parlor doors burst up and Kara ran in, throwing herself down on the rug in the middle of the room with an earthshaking wail.

"STOP! Please I beg you."

Diana spun around on the stool to find her cousin clawing at the rug like a drowning sailor.

"Kara!" she yelled.

Kara lifted her head from the floor and raised a trembling hand towards the piano, pleading.

"Spare us from any more of this torture."

Diana rolled her eyes.

"Ha-ha, very funny."

Kara flopped over on her back, throwing her hands towards the ceiling, and slapping them together in prayer.

"Lord, I confess my sins so please strike my deaf, so I don't have to suffer Diana's horrible playing a moment longer. I can't endure it!"

The older girl picked up a cushion from the nearby chair and threw it at Kara's head.

"Get out!"

The little girl deftly caught the pillow and tilted her head back so she could glare at her cousin, arching her neck at an unnatural angle and seeing everything upside down.

"Don't play it again! What did Mozart ever do to you to deserve this?"

"It's Beethoven's 6th Caroline." Diana defensively retorted.

Kara crossed her eyes, letting her head drop back against the rug.

"Even worse! How could you possibly manage to make a deaf man's music more painful to the ears?"

Diana had had enough.

Looking at her maid she gestured toward the hooligan on the carpet.

"Barda, would you mind?"

Big Barda appeared to share Kara's sentiments as she made no move to obey her mistress. Diana frowned and narrowed her gaze; suspicious her two critics might be consorting.

Barda glared right back but did reluctantly push herself off the wall and make her way over to Kara, grabbing the child by the arm to pull her off the floor.

Kara went limp in protest, but the ogress simply threw her over her shoulder like a rag doll and strode out of the room with a pounding gait.

Kara still managed to get in one last critique as she was carted away.

"At least Beethoven won't be able to hear you in his grave. IF ONLY WE WERE ALL GRANTED SUCH MERCY!"

Diana rolled her eyes to the ceiling as Kara's voice dissipated down the hall.

"Ugh, so dramatic."

Turning back to the instrument she flexed her fingers, prepared to conquer this advisory. Only two bars in however and she slipped up, causing such a pained noise to arise from the piano that she drew her fingers back in fear she'd hurt it.

"…My apologies Maestro Beethoven." She whispered, deciding even the piano was against her now.

She stared at the black and white keys, contemplating starting over again only to resolutely slam her forearm down on them.

The offensive cry that followed filled her with a sense of retribution as she packed up her music sheets and dropped them in a semi-heap on top of the piano.

"That does it!" She announced to the empty room, as she closed the keylid, "I surrender."

She swiveled on the stool, and folded her arms atop the piano, leaning forward and resting the side of her head against them as she looked out the window at the afternoon scenery.

Another raven curl managed to escape and fell over her face. Diana crossed her eyes to stare at the offending strand for a minute before ultimately deciding to leave it be and refocusing her sight at the view.

Suddenly she sat up, watching through the glass as a dark figure drew near, walking towards the house.

She jolted to her feet, eyes wide as the figure became clearer, her heart pounded in her chest as his face finally came into view.

"He's back." She said in a hushed voice, a vibrant smile lighting up her face. "Bruce's back!"

She ran with all the speed her legs possessed, flying out of the house and racing to greet him.

On the path, Bruce looked up at the sound of the front door banging on its hinges to see a young woman running to him, loose raven hair flowing behind her.

She threw her arms around his neck, nearly knocking him over in an exuberant hug, her raven tresses smacking him in the face from the sudden halt.

"It's good to see you too Princess." He coughed, trying to regain some of the air that had been knocked from his lungs.

Reaching up he released her chock hold on his neck and held her at arm's length, keeping a firm grip on her upper arms so she didn't try to suffocate him again with another hug. He also took the opportunity to look at her.

She wore a light blue gown of silk taffeta with a wide rounded neckline, long straight sleeves, and a bobbin lace tippet draped around her neck, down the front of her dress, and pinned to the bodice with a simple brooch.

Her rich raven hair hung loose and free in thick curls down her back, just grazing her hips, and was pulled softly away from her face at the sides, secured with a thin blue ribbon on either side.

Her skin had tanned into a warm olive shade, instead of the pale complexion she'd had at Christmas.

He noted that it made her cheeks a lively pink color and her whole appearance had a ruddier energy that had been lacking since her time at sea.

Her face glowed as she continued to look at him, smiling with pure joy. He couldn't help but smile in return, though it was a bit strange having her be at eye-level. There was barely 3 inches difference between them now.

"You've grown taller." He observed.

Diana's face became cross and he had to bite back a chuckle at her scowl. It never failed to amuse him how she couldn't disguise her feelings on her face.

"Six feet Bruce, that's how tall I am. Aunt Martha had to let down the hem on all my dresses AGAIN! I've grown a whole two inches."

Bruce glanced down at Diana's bare feet peeking out from beneath her skirt. Clearly, new shoes were also a necessity.

He looked back up noticing how much thinner she was than the last time he'd seen her.

He frowned with concern at the amount of loose material bunched around her arms in his hands.

"Didn't they feed you in Lancashire?" he asked, releasing his hold on her, and quickly scanning for any signs of malnutrition.

"Uh-huh, but we were so busy I guess we worked most of it off."

Her eyes lit up as she began to tell him all about her strange summer with the Troys.

She clearly enjoyed the experience, as evident by her high praise of the twins and excited retelling of all the things she had learned while with them.

"Well," Bruce relented, "you don't appear to have suffered too much under their regime."

Diana lifted her head proudly, her hands coming to rest on her hips.

"Nope. When Missus Lane saw Kara and me yesterday she said we looked offensively healthy."

"I'm guessing that would be the suntan's fault." Bruce laughed.

Diana inspected her hands, confused.

"Dinah and Lois were also surprised by that." She mused.

"Are Oliver and Clark here as well?"

Diana nodded, still focused on her hands.

Bruce had wanted to check in with Lady Kent and the girls before leaving but he hadn't expected the whole family to be here.

His natural introversion began to kick in. He hated being caught off guard by events he hadn't prepared for.

"I don't think I'm quite ready for a family reunion at the moment," Bruce said giving Diana a conspirator's look. "Would you care to take a walk in the garden before facing the relatives?"

She nodded, her face bright, and they made their way to Aunt Martha's English garden.

They walked in companionable silence for a while, simply enjoying the late afternoon whether.

"Did you get my letters?" Bruce asked, breaking the tranquil quiet.

"Mhm," Diana hummed as she walked a few paces ahead, clasping her hands behind her back.

"Good, I wasn't sure if they would get there. The Troys live rather out of the way."

She giggled, agreeing with the observation.

"I'm sorry I didn't write more but we were very busy."

Diana stopped to admire some late-blooming flowers that she had yet to identify.

"I found a new poet I like while at the Troys, Sappho of Lesbos."

Bruce raised an eyebrow, wondering how well that would go down when Clark or Lady Kent found out and wishing he could be fly on the wall when they did.

"Can I take it then you enjoyed your summer holiday?" He asked, relieved to know she had connected well with the other half of her family.

She turned back to him, happiness radiating from her like sunshine.

"Aunt Martha agreed to let us go back every summer from now on, and the Twins have consented for Donna and Cassie to come for Christmas every year!"

"I'm glad. You've gathered quite the little tribe since coming here."

He smiled.

"First Kara and Lucy, then Barbara, and now Donna and Cassie. Maybe I should start calling you Diana, Princess of the Amazons."

She rolled her eyes at his teasing.

"Lady Diana will do just fine thank you."

"As you wish…Princess."

Diana looked away as they resumed walking, hoping he didn't see her blush.

He always used that nickname when others weren't listening. It was a gentle reminder of who she had once been, an assurance that she was still the princess her mother had raised her to be even if she had left that world behind.

She loved him for that…for never letting her forget.

"Did you enjoy Italy?" she asked, wanting to distract herself from the warm feeling before she unintentionally made it known.

"I did," he replied.

Diana watched as his eyes took on a blissful faraway look, her heart sinking a little, wishing she hadn't asked.

"I hope to take Selina back there someday soon. Maybe I'll buy a villa to holiday in."

She stiffened at the mention of his wife, her head snapping back to look ahead, fighting the tide of jealousy the clinched her heart and made it hard to breathe.

She had been doing so well, but with one word all her hard work of distancing herself came crashing down.

This reaction did not go unnoticed by her companion.

Bruce's brows knitted together in worry as he watched her demeanor change, swiftly changing his mind about asking her to befriend Selina while he was away.

This awoke a new concern.

He began to contemplate if maybe Diana had become too attached to him, despite the friends she had made.

Bruce had noticed for some time that she presented two sides of herself depending on the company. With the Kents she was all smiles, living in the present, and striving to be the perfect English lady.

It wasn't that these displays were disingenuous, but he knew it was only a partial reflection of the girl underneath.

With him, however, she let the other half emerge, the vulnerable half. The exiled princess, disconnected from her home and culture, missing her family, and tossed about in a world she was still struggling to understand.

Though a part of him was happy that she felt she could trust and rely on him, the last thing he wanted was for their friendship to become a crutch, crippling her from letting others in.

He had more experience with that than anyone should…he didn't want her to become untrusting and closed off…to lose her bright trusting personality that he both admired and envied.

He would have to talk to Clark again. Try and convince him to make an effort regarding Diana's past.

Bruce sighed, he doubted it would make a difference.

His best friend had created an image of what Diana's life was and had been in his mind. An image he saw no reason to change.

Clark preferred to let unpleasant things be.

Diana broke the awkward silence that had settled between them.

"Lois has brought us some bitches from London."

Bruce stopped dead in his tracks.

"What?"

Diana turned around to see why he had stopped, her black brows crooking, bewildered.

"Bitches, they come in a glass jar. Lois said they are a fruit, but I've never had one before."

Deep laughter shook him until Bruce was doubled over, his hands resting on his knees as he struggled to get hold of himself.

Diana frowned, not understanding why he was laughing at her.

With each second that his laughter continued her anger rose.

Putting her hands on her hips she glared at him, azure eyes blazing with blue fire.

"Why are you laughing at me?" she demanded, her unique accent becoming more prominent.

Bruce sputtered and wheezed as he tried to control himself.

"P-Peaches Diana." *Slightly waning laughter, "They are called peaches."

She tilted her head to the side.

"Isn't that what I said?"

"No!" he adamantly corrected, still struggling to keep his laughter tamped down. "It is not."

She groaned and threw her hands in the air, turning back to continue walking ahead of him down the path.

"Whatever."

Bruce took a long stride or two to catch up. His laughing fit was over, but the amused smirk remained on his face.

"You need to watch those Bs and Ps Diana. It could make a shopping trip rather awkward."

She grunted, still not forgiving him for his mockery.

"Were peaches your only culinary discovery since I've been gone?" He asked, thinking of her covert baking operation with Alfred.

Diana's scowl returned full force and she abruptly stopped, raising her chin with proud indignation as she looked him accusingly in the eye, as if he were the representation of everything that was wrong with the English.

Bruce quickly wiped the amusement from his face, instead presenting a serious façade that was at complete odds with his current state.

"Did you know," she demanded, "that bacon and sausages come from pigs?"

Her eyes doubled in size on the word pigs, her horror clearly reflected within. He bit the inside of his cheek.

"I was aware of that yes."

Diana gave a disgusted shudder.

"Well, I didn't." She said as if this had been a deliberate conspiracy to trick her. "But now that I do, I will never eat them again, I refuse."

"Do you have a particular fondness for pigs Lady Diana?" He asked, twitching an eyebrow.

She raised her chin even higher, looking down on him with regal authority.

"Personal connection to a religion has so far eluded me, but I know one thing for certain."

She stuck a pointed finger in his face.

"If there is a God, He definitely doesn't like people eating pigs!"

Bruce shook with suppressed laughter as she continued to rant about the uncivilized monsters of the west who should be ashamed of themselves for eating such creatures.

He had to momentarily look away, knowing he wouldn't be able to keep his composure otherwise.

Sometimes he forgot that she had been raised in a country whose culture and practices were shaped by the faith of Islam and not Christianity. But then there were moments like this that served to remind him.

Needing to distract her before she started a holy war on behalf of swine kind, and he had little doubt she would, he attempted to change topics once she paused for air.

"So, what brings the whole caravan of Kents and Queens to Riverfoot Hall?"

"Oh that," she said, her voice growing softer. "They came to tell us the results of the trial, for my inheritance. I didn't know I had one. Though I won't actually control any of it until I'm 21, Oliver will."

"Are you upset by that?" He asked.

She shook her head.

"No…I wouldn't know what to do with it anyway and if I want to buy something Ollie said I only need ask, so long as it's not unreasonable."

"I suppose it will take some time to get used to, after not having your own income before."

Diana stopped to look at another flower but didn't really seem all that interested in the plant.

"Apparently there are a lot of things I own now…in my parents' house…that need to be collected. Clark and Lois are going back tomorrow, but Ollie and Dinah are going to London at the end of the week, and I am supposed to go with them…to choose what to keep."

Bruce watched her closely, studying her mood. Reverting to his normal calculating mental process where he was comfortable, he began deducing all the events her reaction could trigger.

"Clark wrote to tell me the outcome. You are an extraordinarily rich woman now."

She nodded slowly, looking at the grass in front of her lagging feet.

"I don't want to go Bruce." She whispered.

She seemed to shrink before him, becoming so small and fragile, like a lost lamb. It pained him to see the uncertainty in her beautiful big eyes as he patiently waited for her to continue.

"I'm…nervous about visiting the house…I can't explain it…I just am."

She began to twist the hair hanging in front of her shoulder around her fingers, tightening the curls only to release them and start again.

He understood her reluctance more than she did.

Bruce had never returned to his London home after his parents' death. Just the thought of it made him sick. It would've been like opening pandora's box and letting all the ghosts and demons out, knowing you will never be able to shut them away again once freed.

"At the end of the week, so Saturday." He mused, causing Diana to look up at him. "I should be in London on that day, getting ready to set sail the following morning. I will try to stop by Hever House and see how well the sorting is going.

"Wait!" She cried, grabbing his arm, and pulling him to a stop. "Where are you going?"

"A friend needs my help; he is in Morocco and has asked me to come. I gave him my word that I would repay the debt to him one day for saving my life, and now it is time to make good on that promise."

Diana felt a surge of pride for him, admiring his honorable spirit and devotion to his friend. But a nagging thought scratched at the back of her mind as she found her thoughts turned toward Selina.

She wondered how Bruce's wife felt about him leaving so soon after their honeymoon.

Despite her secret desire to hate her, Diana couldn't help but remember how devastating it had felt when Bruce had left her behind, right after she arrived in England, and found a little part of her jealousy dim as she empathized with the woman she had never met.

With no small amount of reluctance, she decided to play the devil's advocate, and argue on behalf of the new Duchess of Gotham.

"What does your wife think?"

She was relieved the words didn't sound as bitter as she'd expected.

Bruce let out a subtle sigh.

"She doesn't know yet. I doubt she will be happy about it, but there is nothing to be done."

Diana's eyebrows crossed as she contemplated his words.

She found she disagreed with him, surprising herself.

Thinking back, she couldn't remember a time that she had questioned his judgment since relenting to becoming English back on that ship so many months ago.

But there was a first time for everything, and she wouldn't allow anything, not even romantic feeling, to sway her on standing for what she believed was right.

For though his motives were noble, Diana couldn't help but think that he was being foolish by ignoring his wife in this. And Diana was downright indignant on the woman's behalf that he had told her of his leaving before Selina.

"You shouldn't go without her, Bruce." She told him, fighting back a well of tears. "If it were me, I wouldn't like it."

Bruce shook his head, his voice firm, and unbending.

"It is too dangerous to take her along, to many unknown variables. I gave him my word Diana, it's a matter of integrity, duty, and this discussion is over."

She frowned.

"It didn't feel much like a discussion since you are choosing to ignore my advice and stubbornly refuse to admit that you might be wrong. But you're right, it is none of my business."

Bruce clenched his jaw as Diana proudly marched ahead, refusing to rise to the bait and get into an argument with a naïve teenager.

"When is the new tutor you wrote about coming?" he tersely asked.

"Next Friday," She muttered before blowing at another curl that had fallen into her face with no success.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm her anger.

It really wasn't any of her business and if he was leaving again, she didn't want to waste his visit being angry.

"Since he's a man and I won't have a governess anymore, Dinah's going to give me lessons at Werth Palace once a week to prepare for my debut."

Bruce was caught off guard by this announcement, having forgotten that she would be 17 in March.

"Are you excited about entering society?" He asked.

His voice was softer than before, making her relax.

She smiled confidently, turning around to walk backward so she could see him while they talked.

"Yes, because it means that now I'm an adult!"

"It means you're old enough to get married." He corrected and her smile fell away, a thoughtful expression taking its place.

"Does that mean Clark will choose someone for me to marry soon?"

Bruce abruptly stopped, urgently grabbing her by the shoulders.

"England is not like the world you used to know Diana. No one can force you to marry against your will, it is your decision alone."

His face was stern as his fingers dug into her shoulders, forcing her to look him in the eye.

"There will be pressure from others but don't bow to it. You are a woman of means now. You only need to marry if you wish and to the whom you choose…you are free Diana, let no one force you."

Touched by his concern she wrapped her arms around his chest in a tight hug, pressing the side of her face against the soft wool of his jacket.

Things have not gone how I wanted between us, but I promise to always try to be a good friend to you, Bruce. She mentally promised, holding on tighter, knowing soon she would have to let go.

Bruce was again surprised by the hug, but unlike the first one, he returned the embrace, gingerly encircling her in his arms.

He felt an overwhelming desire to protect this innocent and naive girl from the cruelty of the society she was about to enter.

Diana could be so trusting and open, innocent to the way rumor and money manipulated society.

He thought of how she'd easily befriended the sailors on his ship, oblivious to their coarseness and low station, or her fierce protection and loyalty for Lucy, Barbara, and her younger cousins, that shone so purely through her letters about them.

He thought of her childlike love and devotion to Alfred, caring for him and craving his approval without a second thought for their differing stations in life.

Her hopeful desire to love and be loved had never been abused and its trust remained unbroken

He didn't want her to lose that optimism, to become dejected and deceitful. He didn't want her to change.

He hoped…had to believe…that Diana was stronger than humanity's toxic negativity and selfish disdain that would soon surround her.

Tightening his grip, he became keenly aware of what an easy target she was for fortune hunters and those looking for an advantage. She was not only young, titled, innocent, and breathtakingly beautiful, but she was also very rich. A tight knot twisted in his stomach.

Bruce knew he would do everything in his power to keep any unworthy philanderer from hurting her…but would that be enough?

Bruce had to momentarily laugh at himself. After all, he had criticized Clark for being overprotective, but he now understood what he hadn't then about Clark's fears.

It wasn't Diana he didn't trust; it was everyone else.

Please Princess, he mentally begged, for once in your life don't be impulsive and too trusting of others.

He was pulled from his thoughts as Diana broke the hug, standing back with a brilliant smile that made her look more lovely than ever before.

"Thank you, Bruce, but I think my main concern is going to be not making a fool of myself as a debutante. I wouldn't want to make the family regret bringing me to England."

Bruce smiled at her genuine desire to please everyone and her fear of letting them down. No selfish thoughts of wanting glory or fun for herself, just love for her family and a wish to make them proud.

A bittersweet feeling settling over him as he realized just how much she had grown up since their first meeting.

She wasn't the furious little girl who had thrown her towel and refused to take a bath anymore. She was becoming a Lady.

He was proud of her accomplishments, but a more than little sad to see that impudent child slipping away.

"You could never disappoint them, Diana, they believe in you…and so do I."

Her azure eyes lit up with his reassurance and Bruce brushed a loose curl out of her face, tucking it behind her ear.

"I should've had Barda braid it today, it keeps falling in the way." She commented, blushing.

As Diana roughly shoved the rest of her glossy mane behind her shoulder Bruce's eyes latched on to a large bruise covering much of her neck and upper shoulder that she'd, unknowingly, just exposed.

He scowled.

His concern mounting and his mood darkening as he took in the ugly purple and yellow blemish on her otherwise flawless skin, wondering who could've done such a thing to her and what he would do to them if he ever found out.

"What happened there?" He demanded with a sharp tone that made most jump, but Diana waved it off unperturbed.

"It was an accident," she said, clearly not concerned, "I was chasing Kara, trying to dump a bucket of water on her head, but missed and got Ellen instead."

Bruce's eyes narrowed but Diana began to giggle as she retold the story that was more humorous to one of them than the other.

"Ellen was so startled that she threw the fire poker she was cleaning into the air, and it landed on my neck."

Diana gestured to the impressive bruise like it was a proud battle scar.

"It's much better now. You should have seen how much worse it looked yesterday when it happened." She boasted.

That did nothing to lessen his concern as Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, groaning at the girl's thoughtless antics.

He opened his eyes, giving her a stern look.

"You need to think things through Diana. If you continue being impulsive and reckless you are going to get yourself seriously injured or possibly someone else."

Diana pulled in her lips, trying to hide another fit of giggles.

"Do you find this funny?" He growled incredulously.

She shrugged, a mischievous smile still on her face.

"Well, it would have been hilarious had it gone according to plan."

Bruce rolled his eyes, but Diana was tired of him trying to spoil her fun and gave him a haughty look while crossing her arms.

"You know what I think? I think you, Bruce Wayne, need to lighten up and not be so paranoid all the time."

"I may be paranoid, but I managed to never get hit with a fire poker, princess." He retorted.

Diana burst out laughing, her voice clean and crisp in the afternoon air.

"Don't worry so much Bruce, I am a fast healer, in fact, I can hardly feel it!"

Bruce flicked his gaze from her face to the bruise and back again before abruptly pressing two fingers firmly into her neck.

Diana yelped and flinched back before she could stop herself.

Indignant fury burned in her eyes as she stared back at his smug face.

"Why did you do that?" she demanded, her accent thickening with her rage.

Bruce smirked.

"I thought you said you couldn't feel it. I was just testing that theory."

Diana growled low in her throat.

"How would you like a bruise of your own?"

"No thank you, Lady Diana, you'd have to manage to hit me first and I don't have all day to waste."

Bruce knew he was antagonizing her, but he couldn't help but be amused when she got angry from being teased. It was like hiding something from a toddler behind your back, the blue fire blazing in her eyes just egging him on.

Diana threw a fist towards his shoulder, the speed and strength of her strike impressed him, but he easily avoided it by turning his body and sidestepping.

The force began to throw her forward.

She flailed, trying to regain her balance, only to feel a strong hand catch her upper arm, stopping her before she hit the ground.

This only made her angrier as she turns to look up at his laughing face.

Suddenly Diana smiled back.

Bruce frowned, quickly analyzing what she was up to, only to feel a sharp pain shooting up his leg as she stomped down on his foot with all her weight.

He released her arm, clenching his teeth to keep from hissing and showing how much pain he was in. But Diana knew she'd won and innocently clasped her hands behind her back, tilting forward to watch the man hunched over his abused foot.

"I am so sorry Your Grace. You will have to excuse such delicate and weak ladies, like myself. I am afraid we are just too simpleminded to watch where our feet are going."

She gave him a wicked look that screamed of feigned innocence as she leaned further down to look at him like he was a small child.

"That was a dirty trick princess." Bruce bit out, standing up and straightening to his full height.

Diana raised her eyebrows silently telling him that he was just a sore loser.

"All is fair in love and war." She laughed, skipping down the garden path, back the way they came.

"Maybe you should stop spending so much time with Lois," Bruce grumbled as he began to follow, accurately identifying the culprit for teaching her this new phrase.

Diana stopped skipping and shot him a quizzical glance.

"How did you know it was her?"

He snorted a condescending laugh.

"I would expect nothing less from Machiavelli herself."

Diana didn't understand the joke but had a feeling it was his way of spoiling the phrase.

"Kol Hawa," she grumbled. (nicer translation: Shut Up)

"I heard that."

Bruce smirked as her cheeks flushed a deep red and she ducked her head. She had forgotten he could understand her.

"So why did come to visit." She hurriedly asked.

"Actually, I came to ask you for a favor."

Her embarrassment was forgotten, curiosity taking over.

"Really, what is it?"

He smiled at her eagerness.

"Will you look in on Alfred while I'm away? He's missed you over the summer."

"Of course," she earnestly agreed, disappointed that he had felt the need to ask.

Had she been ignoring the dear older gentleman, her friend? She made a mental note to visit him more faithfully from now on.

A mischievous gleam sparked in her eyes and curved her lips as she broke out into a run back towards the house, yelling over her shoulder.

"But you better hurry back Bruce, before Alfred starts to prefer my company to yours."

He chuckled as he watched Diana racing across the grass.

"Always Princess," he softly said as he jogged to catch up, "and Alfred already prefers your company."

Wayne Castle, Kent England September 1844

—Selina Wayne,

"No," she yelled, "absolutely not!"

She glared at her husband as he stood statuesquely behind the desk, drawing a line between them as she faced him down from its other side. It was like a wall was being built and she could see it being laid brick by brick.

Bruce sighed, "I'm sorry Selina but I have to do this, I won't be gone any longer than necessary."

She crossed her arms, trying to keep the fury burning through her locked inside.

"I refuse to accept that excuse."

Bruce frowned, his own temper simmering as well as his rapidly dwindling patience.

"This isn't up for discussion." He firmly replied, his tone stating very clearly that there was no room for argument.

Selina's eyes widened before narrowing into lethal slits.

"So, I'm not even to be consulted? Did you just call me in here to order me to stay in my room and not break anything while your gone, like some child?" She hissed.

A strange calm settled over her with the realization that he would do exactly as he pleased regardless of her feelings. Well, two could play at that game.

"You want to help your friend, I get it, but what I can't accept is that you have to be the one to do it. You own a fleet of ships, send someone else, a person you trust, a friend or worker, I don't care, but someone else."

"I gave my word Selina…it has to be me."

She scoffed.

"Your word? What is that supposed to mean? People give their word all the time, making promises they can't keep, the world easily forgives or forgets in time, and so will he. I'm not saying don't help, I'm asking you to find another way."

He stood rigid and unflinching despite the pleading in her voice, not showing how it was tearing him apart to leave like this, to hurt her.

"No. Selina."

She bit down on the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming out, begging him to stay with her. But her pride wouldn't allow that, she had asked once…she couldn't again.

"Without his word a man is nothing, I won't dishonor his trust in me. I am going, that's final."

Her deep voice resonated in his ears as she laughed. Her arms falling free as she gestured to the magnificence that surrounded them.

"Honor? Do you think it was your ancestor's honor that paid for all of this?"

Her laughter turned cold, she tipped her head forward, watching him with hard emerald eyes, a haughty expression on her face that mocked his misguided belief in such fantasies.

"Open your eyes, Bruce, everyone has a code, you pick what's right for you and try to stick by it, but don't be a fool and think anyone will thank you for your efforts."

Her hard mask slipped, and a flicker of real fear and confusion flashed in her eyes, making him wonder what was really going through her head.

Bruce knew he was missing something. He had a gut feeling that her anxiety was rooted deeper than just missing him or anger at not getting a vote.

He used every tactical observation skill he knew but still, it eluded him, barely escaping his grasp. Just what was she so afraid of?

"I think you might want to leave." She accused, barely above a whisper.

The crease between his furrowed brows softened slightly.

Bruce knew this was unfair to her, hated himself for the look of betrayal in her eyes, but he didn't have a choice. He had to see this through.

He rested his hands on the desk, closing his eyes, his broad shoulders slumping a little as he leaned his powerful frame forward.

"Cat," he gently said, the nickname normally made her melt but now she bristled, "try to understand—"

"Not this time rich boy," she cut him off. Her crooked mouth curved into a sneer that was both sultry and razor-sharp. "What's the matter Bat, tired of me already?"

Bruce's head snapped up, his eyes wide with shock and hurt.

Selina felt a small sense of satisfaction knowing she could wound him too. But the feeling of victory quickly vanished as his face morphed into a dark glare that made her breath catch.

She cursed herself, realizing he had exposed her fear by taking a step back. Something about the darkness and intensity of that look made her blood freeze.

Well, she had seen darkness before and had her own fair share to give back, she refused to lose this fight…to be left behind again.

"If you truly think so little of me then I'll spare you from suffering my presence and go to London today." He said his baritone voice deadly calm.

Panic gripped her heart as she watched him begin to pack various papers into a case. Her mind scrambled for some way to change his mind, to keep him where she wanted.

"If you loved me you'd stay." She abruptly bit out. Her words revealing much more hurt and anger than she had intended.

Again, his head shot up and he stared back at her, but this time his expression was unreadable.

Selina's heart sank into her stomach as the seconds dragged by without him uttering a word. She felt like she was going to vomit as her own words played repeatedly in her head.

"…you can't even say it…" she murmured as hot tears blurred her vision.

Furious with him and herself she swiftly turned on her heels, intent on fleeing from this scene that felt like it had come from her worst nightmare.

She was stopped by a strong hand grabbing her wrist, refusing to let go, holding on so tight she could feel the bones rub together. She whipped her head back, ready to demand he let go, but hesitated.

He was frowning but not in anger, it was earnestness in his eyes and a little fear. A spark of hope reignited within her. Maybe she'd won after all.

Got ya.

Again, the seconds of silence dragged, his grip never letting up, she was beginning to worry he might leave a bruise.

"…The words aren't always easy for me to say, Selina…"

Her lips curled.

"Why not try one of the 23 languages you speak."

He paused again, whatever he was trying to do seemed to be a great struggle for him, almost like a leap of faith.

"…I do love you."

Joy swept through her with his words and she parted her lips to return his sentiment, only for it to die in her next breath.

"However, the two issues are not related…I love you and I am going to Morocco. That is a piece of my moral code."

Bruce released his hold on her wrist, moving to take her hand in his, gently caressing the back of it with his thumb.

"But I won't leave before I have to." He whispered for her ears alone.

"It will take about five days to get everything settled here and prepare the crew. Then I will leave for London, spend a day or two consulting with Lucius, and set sail. Five days is all I can give…but they're yours if you want them."

Whatever reaction he was expecting it wasn't the one he got.

In a moment of blind fury, Selina swung her free hand and slapped it across his face, raking her nails across the flesh. The skilled precision of the strike snapping his head to the right despite her diminutive size.

He released her hand and she stormed out of the room.

Fighting back his own hurt and anger he went back to his desk and began unpacking the case of papers.

He spied Alfred standing to the side, hands clasped behind his back, and a disapproving scowl on his face as he pointedly watched his former charge.

Bruce averted his eyes, mumbling under his breath. "She just needs time to cool off."

The normally dignified Butler gave an unimpressed grunt as if to say Not likely Master Bruce.

Growing annoyed with Alfred's silent criticism Bruce faced him and demanded, "What?"

Alfred arched an eyebrow, reprimanding the young man's temper.

Bruce growled and tried again in a calmer voice.

"Do you have something you'd like to say to me, Alfred?"

The older man shook his head, never breaking eye contact, before heaving a sigh that Bruce felt was borderline overdramatic.

"I would blame myself Sir, but I raised you better. This is entirely on you."

Alfred resumed dusting the shelves he had just cleaned, even though they now had a maid to do that sort of work, just to make sure Master Bruce didn't miss the fact that the Butler was not pleased with the way he had handled things and that the elder gentleman had fully thrown his support behind Selina. Hoping the Duchess would win in their first marital fight, even if he knew the chances of the Duke's stubborn nature budging were slim to none.

Meanwhile out in the hall said young bride waited.

Selina was wounded that he hadn't reacted to her anger like she'd thought he would. She watched the study door, confused. He should have come after her, begging her not to be upset and promising to stay as she wanted. But he didn't.

Clenching her jaw, she stalked away from the door, her face creased in thought as she schemed how to get what she wanted.

She had five days before he left for London, five days to change his mind.

Her confidence returned as she made her way up the main staircase, turning up the right stair toward her room in the south wing.

Fine Bat, she mentally decided, I will just have to convince you.